That Which Has Been
by Angst Is My Middle Name
Summary: "Pain flared violently in Freddey's chest, so harsh she thought it might kill her, along with a thick, smothering darkness. There was something else there in the darkness, though, something that made it bearable. A light. A gentle tug. A reminder. A familiar warmth." Part 6 of "The Chaplain's Log". Notes inside.


_**This story references the events of Star Trek: Generations (1994). Long story short, Kirk is presumed dead after an incident on a starship but is really just in an extradimensional realm where he is essentially alive. Picard retrieves him from the dimension to fight against a madman bent on destroying a star system to enter the same dimension. They succeed, but Kirk dies.**_

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><p>The Hall of Reflection on the Starfleet Academy campus was quiet as Freddey entered. She had already spent several long days counseling people over the loss of friends and loved ones in what was quickly dubbed the Battle of Vulcan. Nine Federation ships had been utterly destroyed that day, along with the entire planet of Vulcan. Six billion lives had been snuffed out in the proverbial blink of an eye. Such a thing was difficult for anyone to deal with, even her, and her defenses were beginning to break down. Empathy was an important quality for a chaplain to possess, but she couldn't exactly be constantly breaking down and crying with her visitors. The head chaplain had promised that if she worked in the morning, she would give the overworked Enterprise chaplain a few days off, so she decided to do her best to muddle through until the afternoon. She had no appointments, so maybe she could just get through some paperwork.<p>

She was understandably surprised to see someone standing by her door at the early hour, and even more surprised to find that he was Vulcan. He was an old man, likely older than Freddey could guess, as Vulcans had far longer lifespans than Terrans. His hair was silvered, his face lined, his eyes weary. His eyes held her attention the longest. They weren't like the others she'd seen on Vulcans, not with all those emotions swirling so violently.

"Sorry I kept you waiting," she stated, offering a polite bow of her head.

"There is no need for apology, lieutenant. I have arrived quite early and was aware I would need to await your arrival."

"You waited for me in particular?"

"Indeed."

Freddey was not expecting that, either. She opened her office door and asked the old Vulcan in to sit, inquiring if he would like a beverage before settling in her own chair. There was a beat before she earnestly told him, "_Tushah nash-veh k'odu_. I grieve with thee."

The old Vulcan inclined his head, unfazed by the young Terran's offered condolences in Vulcan.

"Normally, I would ask what brought you here, but I think I already know that answer."

"You know a part of my reasoning behind my visit, lieutenant. I suspect the other will come as a surprise to you," he explained, "You are close to Jim Kirk, are you not?"

"I am. I've known Jim for about… seven years now. How do you know Jim Kirk well enough to call him Jim?"

She observed as the old Vulcan formulated a response, his eyes getting sad and wistful and misty as they would if he were smiling sadly. For a Vulcan, of course, he probably was.

"It could be said that I have known Jim for a very long time, yet also that I have only just met him. We are both very old friends and new acquaintances."

Freddey felt her brow furrow. Vulcans did seem to enjoy being as cryptic and vague as possible. She requested, "Explain."

"Did Jim not tell you what occurred on Delta Vega?"

A moment passed before realization hit.

"Of course. You're him. You're the Other Spock… well, the original Spock, I guess. He didn't tell me very much, to be honest. Said it had to be kept a secret from, like, everyone."

"How much _did_ he tell you?"

"Not much at all. Just that he met Spock from the future and that the Romulans had been upset because they blamed you for their planet being destroyed far in our future. That's it."

"Then he told you very little," Other Spock explained calmly, "The situation was complicated, so to ensure transmission of all relevant information, I initiated a mind meld with him while on Delta Vega."

Freddey's eyebrows shot up.

"A mind meld? That's… uh… that's very-…"

"Intimate?" he supplied.

"Quite, from what I've been told. Spock, our Spock, offered to tell me about Vulcan culture and beliefs while I was at the Academy, so I know that mind melds are considered very special. Please correct me if I'm wrong, but I will presume you and your Jim participated in mind melds?"

"On may occasions. I am not ashamed to tell you that the Jim Kirk of my time was the best and closest friend I ever had."

There was a pause.

"He's gone, isn't he? Your Jim. And not just because you're here in our time but because he… he died."

"Along with everyone I once served on the Enterprise with," he replied quietly, the first hint of sadness finally creeping into his voice.

"I'm so sorry."

"It is the way of the universe," he told her, his voice even but with that sad tinge, "I once underwent the Kolinahr, the Vulcan ritual which purges all emotion. I thought that without emotions, I could be content, but I soon realized that was far from the truth. I am half human, and so such emotions are a part of my experience, of the life that I have been given. In my life, I have experienced more grief and pain than I ever hoped I would, and I can honestly say I would never give it up."

"Often that for which we grieve is that which has been our greatest joy. Without the good times, there are no bad. We're on the same page as far as that goes, it seems."

Freddey studied the old man for a long moment. He was sad, yes, weighed down by being alone and bearing witness to Vulcan's doom, but there was a kind of strength there, also. His closest companions had been dead for decades, yet here he was, stranded in an alternate universe because he'd wanted to save Romulus for destruction. There was something else, though, something Freddey couldn't quite understand.

"You're here for another reason, Spock," she said calmly; it was not a question.

"Very perceptive, lieutenant."

"Please, call me Winifred. Didn't you in the other timeline?"

Other Spock looked away, avoiding her gaze. An odd feeling settled in her gut.

"You were never on the Enterprise," he used the same sort of tone doctors use to tell patients they're going to die, "Jim told me the two of you were friends on Tarsus IV when you were young, as I presume you were in this timeline. In mine, Jim was chosen to live. He said you were killed in your home just before the massacre, which he witnessed. There were no survivors."

That was certainly an odd feeling, to know she was dead in parallel universe.

"Well… well, I'm alive here, and you should call me Winifred."

He inclined his head in acquiescence while Freddey took another moment to digest the startling information of there being a universe where she was doing anything but this, where she didn't know Jim and Pike and Spock and Kahliya. It was difficult to comprehend.

"We got off subject, Spock. You were going to tell me what else it was that brought you here."

"It is to do with the mind meld I spoke of earlier," Other Spock explained, "I told you that the Jim of my time and myself participated in multiple mind melds over the course of our time together. I did not realize the Jim of this timeline was not yet friendly with my counterpart and so had never experienced a mind meld before. I fear that I may have taken advantage of his mind."

"How so?"

"He did not fully offer his consent to the meld but merely allowed it to happen. He could not have offered full consent because he did not fully understand what a meld consisted of. I forced him to feel emotions he would else never have suffered and stole glimpses at memories that were his alone. After the emergency passed, I realized I had wronged this Jim Kirk by behaving in such a manner."

"Jim didn't tell me he felt wronged in any way, but if it would make you feel better, I could ask him about it for you. Or would you like me to arrange a meeting with him so you could ask him yourself?"

"I do not think that would be wise. I should distance myself from this Enterprise-"

"Look, I know it must be painful, to see a Jim that's so familiar and yet a stranger to you, but I don't think you should distance yourself from us. Maybe… maybe you should hang around. Y'know, shape us into the people we should-"

"That is not my place," he interrupted.

Freddey blinked at the Vulcan. He continued, "You are not the people I knew. Your experiences are not the same as those of your counterparts, and so there is no way you will become the same people. You must shape your own destinies and choose your own paths. My time… my time has passed. I will go to the New Vulcan colony. I have already located a suitable planet with an accommodating native population. There I will go, and there I will stay. That is my destiny, Winifred."

"But won't you be lonely there, Spock?" she asked quietly.

Other Spock's face grew impossibly sadder, and he answered in a soft, low voice, "I have been lonely since Jim died 94 years ago, and since the passing of all those I have called friends. It makes no difference now if I am lonely here in this timeline or lonely in the other. The fact still stands that I have no one in either place."

Some of her cracks were deepening. _Damn, I'm tired. I need to sleep after this before I end up blubbering with my visitors_.

"One thing Jim did tell me was that you were so sad, the saddest person he'd ever met. I didn't believe him," she whispered, "He said he couldn't understand how someone so sad could still be functioning."

Other Spock said nothing, his gaze still misty.

"What happened to him? To your Jim?" she asked, stopped, backtracked, "No, never mind. That's none of my business. I shouldn't be prying into your grief."

"Perhaps that is why I came, even without my realizing it. Is there not a Terran saying about sharing grief and halving it?"

"Yes, and it seems to me you've been carrying this grief for a long time."

"I have had no one to share it with."

Without fully understanding why, Freddey reached out to lay her hand on Other Spock's arm, feeling a storm of emotions brewing under his skin, and told him, "You can share it with me."

Other Spock lifted an eyebrow, giving Freddey a quick once over. It felt like an appraisal.

"It will be easier if I am able to show you, Winifred."

She was pleased to know she passed muster but eyed his outstretched hand warily. She'd never been in a meld before, and she wasn't sure how much she was ready to feel in the state she was in. She had made a promise to this Other Spock, however, promised him something important. Freddey took a deep breath, saying, "You honor me with your trust, Spock."

"As you honor me with yours," he replied, "Please, it is easiest when you relax your mind and close your eyes…"

His hand came up to rest on her face, the fingers connecting to various points. Freddey's eyelids slipped shut.

Pain flared violently in Freddey's chest, so harsh she thought it might kill her, along with a thick, smothering darkness. There was something else there in the darkness, though, something that made it bearable. A light. A gentle tug. A reminder. A familiar warmth. _Jim_, a voice supplied, _Your name is Jim_. It was faint, the familiar warmth, but it was there and because it was there, she felt hope. _Gone but not. Always and never touching and touched. _The light, the gentle tug, meant Jim was still alive, somehow, somewhere, in some form. That was good. Even if she never saw him again, he was still alive and that was good enough for her. The presence had been there for so long it no longer felt unnatural, not that it ever really had been in the first place. It's just another part of her mind, her soul, her being. As long as it's there, she'll be okay. The pain dulled just enough to be bearable.

The warm, comforting presence was ripped away, leaving a raw, open, bleeding wound, a yawning chasm where it had been. An all-consuming emptiness drowned her. It was endless, boundless, infinite, inescapable. That was it. The end. She would never again feel that presence, that warmth, and the knowledge that she would never escape that emptiness was terrifying. She wanted nothing more than to pull away, to find a way to flee the pain and the yawning void… but she promised this Spock she would do this, would help him share his grief. She would stay if only to keep her promise.

She blinked in the light of her office. It's dim light felt blinding after the darkness.

"Jim was right," she sniffed, wiping at her eyes, "That was awful. I don't know I would be able to live with that."

"I have managed to go on this way very simply."

"How?"

His smile was sad and enigmatic.

"I continue to live," he replied, "because that is what Jim would wish for me to do."

Freddey felt a smile creep onto her face.

"You know, Spock, you're absolutely right. Forgive me. I should have known right away that you are the sort of man who keeps his promises."

The faintest smile sat on Other Spock's face, and he seemed to sit straighter in the chair now, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders… the weight of a world. They sat together in a brief but pleasant silence.

"Tell me, Spock, if you can. Your Jim… was he happy?"

"He was the greatest man I ever knew and the best captain in the Federation."

"But was he _happy_?"

"I believe he was, yes. He had a good crew, a good ship, good friends. I only knew him to be unhappy in any way as he grew older and the Federation attempted to push him toward calmer pursuits. He greatly enjoyed being in the thick of things, as you say. He was happiest on the bridge of a starship."

"But he _was_ happy?"

"Yes. Being captain of a starship was his destiny."

"What about your destiny, Spock?"

"Mine? Mine was to be at his side."

Her smile widened slightly. She replied, "Sounds like a pretty good destiny."

"It was."

There was a knock at her door, and Spock rose from his chair gracefully (if slowly) and excused himself for another appointment. He was almost to the door when Freddey told him firmly, "You know, I expect you to keep in touch."

"I will endeavor to do so, Winifred."

A first-year cadet came in, bearing a datapad for Freddey to look over from the head chaplain. Thankfully, the rest of her morning was slow, with no other meetings. It gave her time to finish her paperwork and to think on what she learned from the Other Spock. There was quite a bit he told her, after all.

_When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth _

_you are weeping for that which has been your delight. _

_~Kahlil Gibran _


End file.
